There are battles that I never want to fight again,
With some that I was never in;
And better ways todays begin
In memories washed of pain.
Firefights of life and death are not reserved for war,
They happen every day I store
The words I heard and said, and more
While flowers simply ask 'what for? '
In promises of gain...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem